


Whose faithful sing

by MagicalDragon



Series: Ishan Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dalish Religion, Fictional Religion & Theology, Gen, dalish religion headcanons disguised as fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 14:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13503471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalDragon/pseuds/MagicalDragon
Summary: Far away from home, a Dalish elf finds a way not to be alone.





	Whose faithful sing

The first time Ishan offered after joining the inquisition was deep in the woods outside Haven. It was a very simple proceeding, he had no shrine or paint or means to make sure his offerings went undisturbed, but none of that was required, really, and Ishan wondered if perhaps this simple way of doing it wasn’t purer in a way. Still, it was… very different to do it alone in an unfamiliar wood.

He’d given parts of a hare he’d shot while out in the woods – he _was_ still a hunter, despite everything – and a wooden figure he’d carved into the likeness of an owl. Then he’d said words and thought of Falon’din and Andruil for several minutes before covering his offerings in snow and retreating from the spot. He hoped his offerings would remain undisturbed. It was natural for animals to approach, in fact he’d been taught it was a good sign, a sign that the offerings were being accepted, but if a person disturbed it..? That would not be right. All he could do was hope that it was deep enough in the woods that no-one else would go there.

 

He spent a lot of time in contemplation after Haven. He was not unused to death; he’d chosen Falon’din for a reason – perhaps it was more right to say that Falon’din had chosen _him_ – but nevertheless, the scale of this… it was hard to comprehend.

He said many prayers to Falon’din in those days, in some desperate attempt to make sure all those who had fallen found peace. It did cross his mind that perhaps he should leave such business to Mother Giselle and the sisters who travelled with the inquisition, since he was sure most who’d died were Andrastians, but… he did it anyway.

It didn’t go entirely unnoticed.

One time after finishing a prayer, he’d looked up to meet Solas’ eyes. He’d clearly been observing Ishan’s prayer, but he said nothing, and neither did Ishan.

When Iron Bull noticed was a mystery. Ishan hadn’t had any idea he’d even known – but then, Ishan reminded himself, Bull _was_ a spy – until he one day walked with him during the day and Bull shared a bit about Qunari traditions taking place after a battle with many loses.

Then one evening Cole brought him a lyre – Dirthamen only knows where he got it – and suggested that he play it.

“It helped before,” he said, and however unnerving it was that Cole knew that, Ishan couldn’t argue with it, so he obliged. He played _In Uthenera_ through once before he started singing. He was surprised to hear a voice join his halfway through, and even more surprised when he looked up to see it was Leliana who sang with him.

“I didn’t realise this song was known to humans,” he said after they’d finished singing. He’d deliberately stopped short of saying shemlen, as he would have in the past.

Leliana was quiet for a moment.

“It’s not widely known,” was all she said, seemingly lost in reminiscing.

 

It was… unsettling to be thought the “Herald of Andraste.” Ishan knew by now that no amount of protesting would change the minds of those Andrastians who thought him chosen by their god. And he knew well enough the advantages of such faith; the people needed something to believe in, and to believe their leader chosen by their god made them all the more loyal. He understood the advantages, both for the individual people in the Inquisition and for the inquisition as a whole. That did not make it any less disconcerting.

Andraste meant little to Ishan. Clan Lavellan was known for associating more with the rest of society than most other clans, so he had heard parts of the chant and he understood, as well as a non-believer could, who Andraste was to her followers. Andraste in and of herself made a good impression on Ishan, but that did not mean he wished himself associated with her, or, indeed, The Maker, and not just because he didn’t believe in their divinity.

What was perhaps even more frustrating was that he didn’t think the possibility of godly help entirely impossible. He had been through incredible things, survived things that one would not think survivable… though the gods were sealed away, they did find their ways of helping The People. Of course such help was usually small, personal things, inconsequential on a larger scale, which made it very unlikely that this was their work; impossible, some would say… but then, a lot of impossible things had been happening lately, hadn’t they?

“I don’t deny that divine intervention is possible,” he’d told Mother Giselle after the destruction of Haven. “I simply have different ideas of who might be helping me than you – or anyone else, I daresay – do.”

Mother Giselle had been quiet for a very long time; she was probably quite unused to interacting with _heathens_ such as himself.

“No matter who you interpret as your savior to be, the people will think it was Andraste,” she’d finally said. “The specifics rarely matter when we are called to a greater cause; what matters is that you _have_ been chosen, whether it be by The Maker or circumstance or someone else.”

Ishan had privately thought that the reason the specifics didn’t matter to Mother Giselle was that was she believed was the commonly held belief. He doubted she would have treated him the same had he been “The Herald of Mythal.” He’d been tired though, and in no mood to argue, especially not with a representative of the Chantry. He knew who he was, and wasn’t. That had had to be enough - for now.

 

The terrain surrounding Skyhold was not the kind Ishan would prefer to venture out into every time he need contact with his gods and so he quickly dismissed that idea. He tried setting up a shrine in his room, but it didn’t feel right, and he let that idea go, too.

One day when he found himself in the gardens, an idea occurred to him. Skyhold had a chapel; why couldn’t it have an area for Dalish practices, too? There were other Dalish in the inquisition than himself, though he didn’t know how religious they were, or if they _were_ sufficiently religious, how well their practices lined up with his own. It seemed a good idea though. Dalish religion, like everything else Dalish, was communal, and perhaps the idea of a shrine in his private room had seemed so wrong exactly because it was _private_.

He brought it up with his advisors – the thought was still a weird one, he had advisors?? because he was the inquisitor??? him ?????? – and when he was met by a shrug (Cullen), a “I don’t see why not” (Leliana) and a “Oh what a lovely idea!” (Josephine), he went ahead.

In the beginning they were only four people, himself included. Dalish from the Chargers hadn’t been interested, but he’d found others who would join him: two soldiers from clan Ghilain, who’d joined the inquisition recently, and a mage from clan Alerion, a clan known to run strong with magic – apparently she’d volunteered to leave after yet another kid started displaying magic ability.

In the beginning they had only three shrines: one to Mythal, one to Andruil and one to Falon’din. They’d have to add one to Elgar’nan soon, Ishan thought. Though four shrines used by only four people was a lot, overlooking Elgar’nan was not without its dangers.

He hadn’t had to worry about being too few for the shrines, though. Their numbers increased with time, as word spread of what they were doing. Even non-Dalish joined, tentative and full of questions, and Ishan felt a sense of peace as he told the stories of their gods, sharing them with elves who’d never had a chance to hear them before. He remembered them well, having almost been considered an apprentice of sorts of his clan’s storyteller. He’d been meant to remember and pass on what he knew, and, well… Master Athval would have been proud, Ishan was sure of it.

They did create Elgar’nan’s shrine as the first one after the initial three, and the rest soon followed. Ishan had always thought that the special connections to specific gods individuals often formed were one of the great beauties of Dalish religion, and it seemed that even here, surrounded by humans and Andrastianism, each god had at least one devout taking care of their shrine. Though some received more attention than others, no god was forgotten.

Not even Fen’harel.

He had hesitated, truth be told, but Ishan knew that a Fen’harel was necessary for a full ensemble, and so he found himself walking around the corner of the garden that had become the Dalish area, looking for the best place for the wooden wolf under his arm. He tried a few places, before he finally found somewhere that seemed right. He didn’t notice Solas behind him till he spoke.

“Is that Fen’harel?” he asked and Ishan almost jumped in surprise.

“Yes,” he replied and turned around to face Solas. “To keep away harmful spirits.”

“Interesting…” Solas said, though he seemed more guarded than anything else.

“I thought you might get mad at me for misunderstanding spirits,” Ishan said, Dirthamen only knows why, as he awkwardly scratched his neck.

“I’m not unaware that they can be harmful to mortals… though I must admit some curiosity as to why Fen’harel would keep them away,” Solas said.

“Well, yes, you see… uhm…” Ishan rambled, trying desperately to remember what he’d been told when he himself had asked about the Fen’harel statues on the outskirts of camp.

“The Dread Wolf is more dangerous than the spirits, so they’re likely to stay away if he’s called upon by using his likeness…” he explained. “And, uh, sometimes people will offer to him…”

Solas seemed somewhat surprised at that. “Is that regular practice for the Dalish? I thought the shrine we found in Ghilanain’s Grove the work of a sect or the like.”

“Well, that’s…” Ishan hesitated.

“In my clan, I only know of one person who offered to him. She… had been through a lot, and she thought Fen’harel might have been playing with her. So she left offerings at his statue in hope it would appease him and he would leave her alone...” When Ishan looked up, Solas was frowning. “I think the shrine was a bit different. Shrines are always made to revere, it cannot have been solely for appeasement.”

“I see…” Solas was quiet for a long moment. “The ancients viewed Fen’harel differently, though with no less wariness.”

“Maybe that’s why we still see that part the same, then,” Ishan said. Solas eyed him curiously. “If the ancient elves were wary of him as well, it only goes to show that we’re right to be.”

“Perhaps,” was all Solas said, before he excused himself and Ishan turned back to the wooden Fen’harel.

 

“Lethallin,” Solas said from somewhere behind Ishan. “I wanted to speak with you.”

Solas hadn’t referred to him in such familiar terms before now, and honestly it was quite heartwarming to hear him do so, but…

“Oh it’s lethallen, actually,” Ishan corrected.

Solas blinked then corrected himself. “Ir abelas: Lethallen.”

Ishan looked sheepish.

“Yeah, I guess that’s sort of surprising…” He wasn’t meeting Solas’ eyes. “Shemlen are sort of weird with gender, so I…”

“No, I shouldn’t have assumed,” Solas said and Ishan looked up at him. When he looked away again, he was smiling.

“So, uhm, I was just about to give this to Mythal.” He held up the bag of food he was holding. “But I have plenty of time to talk after that.”

“You offer to Mythal? I thought you a… devout of Falon’din,” Solas said as he gestured vaguely to Ishan’s face, where the brown vines of his vallaslin twisted and turned in forms associated with that very deity.

There was something in Solas’ expression Ishan couldn’t read, but he definitely seemed more… grave than his words seemed to call for. The matter had to go beyond mere curiosity.

“Oh, you’re right, I am!” Ishan smiled. “But Mythal can’t be neglected, no matter who you might dedicate yourself to.”

Solas seemed… somewhat please at that, but it was overshadowed by what Ishan thought to be melancholy. Yet again, Ishan found himself wondering about his companion. He’d become increasingly convinced that Solas had been Dalish, once. He spoke Elvish better than Ishan did – far better, actually. As well as Keeper Deshanna did, possibly better, he suspected. And he knew of Dalish conceptions of gender well enough to know exactly what _lethallen_ denoted.

It wasn’t unheard of for elves to leave their clans, for whatever reason. It hadn’t happened in his clan during Ishan’s lifetime, but from time to time he’d heard some of the older clan members discussing someone called Renae, where she might have ended up and how she was doing these days. Solas would have had to have left his clan early, though, to have left without Vallaslin. Maybe he’d left because of Vallaslin – maybe he’d been unable to do the ritual?

Aaaaand maybe Ishan was jumping to conclusions. Still, while Ishan didn’t doubt much could be learned in the fade, it just… it didn’t seem to fit together quite right.

If Ishan seemed unlike other Dalish elves to Solas, Solas seemed equally unlike other city elves to Ishan.

“Well, I’ll meet you in the rotunda when I’m done!” Ishan said before running off.

 

The shrines helped Ishan a great deal. He felt less alone than he had done ever since he arrived, less unfit for this world he’d suddenly been thrown into, and he found himself gaining confidence from his visits. Rumors of this practice also spread throughout Skyhold, making “Herald of Andraste” a rare name for him within its walls, if not outside it. Furthermore, his time spent in the gardens with the elves of the inquisition let him know his people - the inquisition’s people - much better.

When Ishan enthusiastically told Iron Bull about this, his look of bemusement quickly grew to one of acknowledgement.

“I still can’t know everyone under my command, like you do,” he said. “But this way, I know many.”

Bull nodded.

“Well done, boss.”


End file.
